Synopsis

NFL football player Isaiah Blackwell lost his husband three years ago and is raising their teen son alone. He lives his life as quietly as his job allows, playing ball to support his family but trying not to draw unwanted attention. His quiet life is shaken up when a mutual friend introduces him to Victor, a visiting principal ballet dancer who is everything Isaiah is not.

Brash and loud, Victor Aleksandrov has applied for political asylum to avoid returning to Russia, where gay men are targeted and persecuted. He’s been outspoken about gay rights in his home country, and if he doesn’t get asylum, going back to Russia is a death sentence.

Their one-night stand turns into a tentative friendship, a relationship they both agree is temporary…until Victor’s denied asylum. Isaiah can’t offer Victor a happily ever after, but he can propose something that’ll keep Victor in the US and safe. . .marriage He just doesn’t expect his new husband to dance away with his heart.

Exclusive Excerpt

I had so much fun writing HIS CONVENIENT HUSBAND but I’m not gonna lie that some of the most fun for me was putting Victor and Isaiah through hell. These were two men, so very different, and brought together for a really good reason but the sexual attraction between them was a huge problem when Isaiah didn’t want to risk his heart every again. So, I tortured them and made them earn their HEA – as one does.

Here’s an exclusive excerpt just for you guys . . . one where I loved cranking up the emotional stakes:

“You took your time coming home,” Isaiah said, his tone as at as the granite countertop.

“I needed to blow off some steam,” he replied, his accent heavy on his tongue tonight, a result of the drinks and his fatigue. He’d pay for it tomorrow on the rehearsal floor, but he didn’t care. “The last place I wanted to be was here until I’d settled down.”

“Two a.m.,” Isaiah said, his gaze turning pointedly to the clock glowing on the surface of the microwave oven. “You’ve got rehearsal in the morning.”

His anger had cooled, but Isaiah’s words threw gasoline on the embers, and in a ash he was back to a three-alarm blaze.

“Well, he was worth it.”

His first reaction to Isaiah’s shocked expression was a mean and petty glee that his words had hit the mark. But as his husband’s expression morphed into raw hurt, his victory was tarnished by shame of not only the lie, but also the smallness of the behavior. He wasn’t that man, not a guy who hurt other people to make himself feel bigger.

“I see,” Isaiah said, clearing his throat as he leaned heavily on the kitchen island, hands visibly unsteady, but his usual mask of calm and unconcern slamming down like a gate barring any access to the man underneath. “Well, I guess that’s...” His jaw clenched like he was fighting back revealing any emotion, but his words gave him away. “You didn’t waste any time.”

“You told me you didn’t want me and that I should look elsewhere. I did what you told me to do, Isaiah.” He shrugged, hopefully transmitting a nonchalance he wasn’t feeling at all.

The silence that stretched between them was even more pronounced in the stillness of the early morning. God, he wanted to tell him that nothing had happened with that guy because of him, to reopen this discussion and try to get another outcome, but Victor knew it was a waste of time. Isaiah had been nothing but clear. Victor was the one with the problem.

No time like the present to deal with another problem.

“About what happened today with Evan,” he said, his words changing the subject so quickly that Isaiah paused, visibly taking a few seconds to get caught up.

“I can’t have him exposed like that. Stephen and I built his life to be normal and away from all the bullshit of Hollywood and Los Angeles.”

“You’re not.” Isaiah started to object, but Victor cut him off. This was his time to talk.

“I feel like one sometimes. I’m safe here, because of you, while my brothers and sisters are suffering, and that is why I can’t stop talking about it. I have the freedom and the platform, and I’m using it because I can. I understand your concerns about your team, and I agree that Evan shouldn’t be part of it, but I’m not going to stop.” He took a breath and swallowed. “I figured it was a given considering how we ended up here.”

Isaiah dipped his head, lifting to scrub at his two a.m. stubble. Victor let him think; nothing about this situation was easy. When he looked up again and their eyes locked across the darkened kitchen, Victor knew how hard this was on Isaiah. His dark eyes were roiling with emotions, and none of them were good, except for the ashes of desire. That was good, except for the fact that it would never lead anywhere.

He didn’t say it out loud, but the word “temporary” hung in the air. Victor wasn’t expected to be around forever, and that hurt. It was as simple as that. And it made his next suggestion very easy to say.

“My place here in the L.A. company isn’t guaranteed.” Isaiah’s expression was confused, but understanding took over as he continued his solution. “Other companies are interested. London, Paris, and New York have all been vocal about wanting me to come there. I’ll be going to New York in a few weeks to do a special performance, and I think they’ll offer me a spot as a principal dancer. If I take it, then it could solve our problems. Not even the immigration people could dispute a legitimate job offer.”

“I didn’t mean you had to leave,” Isaiah said, his tone full of the regret that also tightened his jaw. “I don’t want you to have to leave.”

Before the events of the last couple of days, Victor would have indulged in his hopeless romanticism, but this time he wouldn’t make that mistake. Isaiah had been clear, honest, and Victor would be the same. It was the least they owed each other.

He opened the dishwasher and placed his glass inside. Victor passed his husband, suddenly wanting nothing more than his own bed. “I know you aren’t telling me to go, Isaiah, but you aren’t exactly asking me to stay, either.”

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Meet the Author

A USAToday bestseller, Robin Covington loves to explore the theme of fooling around and falling in love in her books. Her stories burn up the sheets. . .one page at a time. When she’s not writing she’s collecting tasty man candy, indulging in a little comic book geek love, hoarding red nail polish and stalking Chris Evans.

A 2016 RITA® Award finalist, Robin’s books have won the National Reader’s Choice and Golden Leaf Awards and finaled in the Romantic Times Reviewer’s Choice, and the Book Seller’s Best.

She lives in Maryland with her handsome husband, her two brilliant children (they get it from her, of course!), and her beloved furbabies, Dutch and Dixie Joan Wilder (Yes – THE Joan Wilder)

Drop her a line at robin@robincovingtonromance.com - she always writes back.

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